A Surfeit of Surprises
by Rumrum
Summary: Ahh, the Court of Gondor: so proud, so upright - and then Eldarion gets some 'ideas'... Sequel to 'Tangled Webs'.
1. Rohirric Fun!

DISCLAIMER: I've written this purely for my own and my readers' entertainment. I make no money whatsoever and I don't own anything (apart from the plot and my student debts, and you're more than welcome to take the latter if you so wish).

A/N: Once again, I'm gratefully indebted to gaia caecilia for all her help, both with ideas and being my beta reader!

A/N 2: Although this is nominally a sequel to my story 'Tangled Webs', it isn't necessary to have read that first. But, then again, it is only five chapters long, so won't take you very long to read...

I'm not hinting.

Honest.

A/N 3: I will be trying to publish this along with another fic called 'Forbidden Fruit' whilst also doing my Uni work, so the updates may not be all that regular, but I will do my best and I can promise that both will be completed, as I hate reading incomplete fics – you may just have to wait awhile.

**A SURFEIT OF SURPRISES**

**CHAPTER 1 – ROHIRRIC FUN!**

Eldarion tried to hold in his giggles as his father strode up to him, Anduríl swinging from his hip, inside its sheath. Fortunately, Aragorn took his son's tense pose, sparkling eyes, and near beaming expression for anticipation of his training session – although he had had several so far, their novelty to Eldarion had yet to subside.

"Well, my son, ready for more sword work?" Although he was immensely busy with ruling his kingdom, Aragorn always took time off to be with his son. Elrond had always done so when he was growing up in Rivendell.

Eldarion nodded excitedly and took his father's outstretched hand. They made their way to the training grounds, where a small host of other boys was already gathered. Eldarion took his hand away from his father's as though he was red-hot. Aragorn merely chuckled and ruffled his son's curly hair. He then stepped forward, only to stumble against Eldarion, who was standing, stock-still, gazing out across the courtyard. King Eomer, Queen Lothiriel, their son Elfwine, and their (large) Rohirric escort had just arrived.

"Eomer!" Aragorn called and went striding forward to greet his old friend. The two Kings hugged each other, before turning to greet the other's wife, Arwen having just emerged. Eldarion came up behind his mother.

"So, this is Eldarion?" said Eomer as he bent down to Eldarion's level. "Greetings, little one." Eldarion smiled nervously – maybe it was going to be OK after all, maybe his father would want to talk more with King Eomer and leave him to his training session. It's not that he didn't _want_ his father to be with him, it's just... Eldarion's eyes slid to his father's sword.

Aragorn looked at his son – surely Eldarion wasn't shy? Usually his son could talk the hind leg off a horse. But then, to be fair, this was the first time that Eldarion had met Eomer, unless you counted when he was a baby and Aragorn doubted his son could remember that.

Eomer then held out his hand to the small, pale-haired boy still nestled in his mother's arms. The boy jumped down and plodded over.

"This is Elfwine, my own son."

The two boys just looked at each other. All was silent. The two Kings exchanged meaningful glances – it probably wasn't fair on either Elfwine or Eldarion if they were expected to talk outright in front of all these people. To cover the awkward moment, Eomer indicated Anduríl.

"About to do some sword practice?"

"Yes, we were. Care to join us?"

Eldarion froze – did his father just say what he thought he did?

"Wouldn't mind if I do. All my opponents in Rohan seem to hold back when I'm fighting them; can't think why." Eomer raised his voice at the last and looked significantly towards his men – all of whom seemed to have become very interested in Gondorian architecture. Aragorn chuckled.

"I know the feeling, my friend."

Eldarion stared in disbelief as King Eomer went to retrieve his sword – this could not be happening. He again eyed his father's sword. It would have been OK if it had just been a normal training session with only him and the rest of the group to see, but now... Eldarion groaned inwardly; what was he to do? He looked up and then tugged at his mother's skirts.

"Mamma!" he hissed. "Papa can't use his sword."

"What do you mean, my sweet? Of course he can."

"No, no, I mean he _can't_; he won't be able to... to..."

But it was too late, for the Kings had already lined up in front of each other. Eomer drew his sword and waited for Aragorn to do the same, which he did.

Well, he _tried_ to, anyway.

Inspired by his mother's stories of her childhood, Eldarion had sneaked into where his father kept his sword and smeared the blade with glue before putting it back into its sheath. Now he watched as his father tried with all his might to extract Anduríl – it was made worse by the fact that Aragorn was trying to do it surreptitiously and both father and son were becoming all too aware of the attention beginning to be heaped upon the former.

"You do realise, Aragorn, that the sword is supposed to be out of its sheath?" Eomer chuckled.

Looking from her son to her husband, Arwen read the situation immediately. Shielding her son (literally), Arwen stepped forward and spoke,

"Surely, you don't want to have a duel now, meleth-nin? For the day is hot and Eomer has had a very hard ride; I'm sure Lothiriel must be gasping for a drink and the escort must be very sticky in all their armour. Perhaps, when everyone is rested and things are sorted out, you could have a duel then. Later." Arwen then indicated the steps leading up to the palace. "Come, Lothiriel, I shall show you to your rooms and then we can have a good gossip over a nice cool drink. And why don't we leave our sons here, where they can get better acquainted."

The Kings, one red-faced, the other chuckling, followed their wives inside and everyone else dispersed, leaving the two Princes alone together.

XXX

All in all, Eldarion concluded, the day wasn't so bad after all. He'd made a new friend and the sword incident hadn't been mentioned since the morning, although his mother did wink at him when the man that dealt with all the armour and things sidled up to Aragorn and whispered in his ear.

_Yes_, Eldarion thought as he watched the Prince of Rohan arrange his cavalry, _I _do _rather like Elfwine, even if he is a bit quiet for my liking._

Eldarion was suddenly roused from his musings when the other boy piped up.

"Was it you that glued your father's sword inside its sheath?" Eldarion's mouth fell open and he quickly glanced towards his bedroom door, which was, fortunately, shut tight.

"How...?"

Elfwine shrugged and then he crossed his arms and grinned.

"I know one or two things about pranking one's father, although, I must admit, I prefer 'seeing to' his horse."

Eldarion was intrigued, this certainly wasn't the boy who he'd been playing with up 'til now – the previous Elfwine had been quiet, shy, but _this_ Elfwine was mischievous and very, very daring. The Prince's eyes widened as Elfwine described his plan.

_Uncle Legolas was right – being 'innocent' really does have its advantages._

XXX

The two Princes giggled as they watched from their hiding place. Really, this was all too good, for both Kings were going out riding and Elfwine hadn't been able to resist... err... extending his prank.

Both Princes watched with baited breath as the two horses were led out to stand beside their masters. The Kings mounted and they and their retinue began to move off at a sedate pace. Eldarion frowned – why wasn't anything happening? But Elfwine smiled.

"'All good things come to those who wait.' Is there any way of getting quickly down to the city?"

So Eldarion led Elfwine through a couple of secret passages he'd discovered while trying to avoid his mother during bath time. Like his father, Eldarion wasn't overly keen on keeping clean. Besides, what was the point? He spent so much time exploring that he always seemed to get dirty, despite doing his utmost not to, for getting dirty equalled getting bathed or at the very least, a thorough face-washing.

Anyway, Eldarion led the way down to the crowded streets and both boys huddled behind a corner – being able to see without being seen.

The royal party appeared and the crowd made way for them, many bowing or curtseying. All the horses passed without anything happening, but then things did start to happen and all in tantalizing slow-motion...

First, King Eomer himself sort of leant to the side... without stopping... and soon found himself staring between the legs rather than the ears of his horse, before he – rather ungracefully – collided with the stone path.

"Ow." Eomer's voice dripped with sarcasm.

Everyone stared – even Eomer's horse looked rather astonished. Aragorn jumped down and looked amusedly at his friend, the merest hint of a smile gracing his face.

"You do realise, Eomer, that you're supposed to ride upon a horse's back, not under its belly? Need a hand?" He helped Eomer to his feet, whereupon the Rohirric King started to look all about him. Elfwine had idea as to who his father was looking for – him.

"Who do you seek, my friend?" Eomer scowled at Aragorn.

"I have a pretty good idea as to who is responsible for this because he is the only one who would dare to do such a thing."

As if reading his friend's mind, Aragorn put a hand on to his shoulder.

"I think we have both been the victim of our respective sons, but there is no harm done. Surely you acted in a similar manner when a boy? I know I did."

Eomer thought for a while before nodding and moving to rearrange his tack – making doubly sure the girth was tight enough this time. Both Kings mounted and the party moved off again, only to stop when Aragorn began to slip sideways. As opposed to surprise, his face now held traces of resignation. Eomer dismounted and strode over – was he bouncing slightly?

"Need a hand?"

TBC.


	2. Oh, to be at a banquet!

DISCLAIMER: I've written this purely for my own and my readers' entertainment. I make no money whatsoever and I don't own anything (apart from the plot and my student debts, and you're more than welcome to take the latter if you so wish).

**CHAPTER 2 – OH, TO BE AT A BANQUET!**

Eldarion wriggled again.

"Keep still, Eldarion, you don't want to be pricked with a pin, do you?"

The young Prince of Gondor and Arnor scowled up at his mother.

"And don't give me that expression, young man, it isn't very becoming."

Eldarion crossed his arms, causing several pins to tumble to the floor. Both the seamstress and Arwen looked at each other and sighed inwardly – a fitting session for new robes for a young boy, who was used to going about in loose tunics and leggings, was not the most relaxing experience either of them had had, especially as said young boy was doing absolutely nothing to aid the process.

"But it itches, Mamma, and it's tight and hot and..."

"Yes, I think I get the picture, Eldarion, but you'll get used to them." Arwen sighed again. "Besides, every Prince wears formal robes at banquets."

"Elfwine doesn't, he told me."

_Brilliant_, thought Arwen,_ now he's going to be even more impossible_. Eldarion may be young, but he'd already learnt self-consciousness, something which wasn't helped by being the Crown-Prince of Gondor and Arnor, resulting in him getting far more attention than what was received by many other little boys his age.

"Well, Elfwine's no longer here and all your friends who _will_ be there will wear robes."

"Will they?"

'Precocious' was one of the best adjectives to describe Eldarion – despite his youth, he was already incredibly astute and – given time – would no doubt have been able to give Lord Erestor a very good run for his money.

"Of course they will." Before her son could say anything in response, Arwen continued, "The longer we stand here arguing this point and the more you refuse to co-operate, the less time you will have to play before dinner."

This shut Eldarion up at once. Arwen could almost see the battle between his desire to not submit and his desire to be outside going on in his head. Of course the latter won and – slowly – the arms unfolded and the little face was schooled into an expression of resignation. The seamstress smiled gratefully at the Queen before getting back to work.

XXX

Elladan and Elrohir watched as their nephew stomped into the Library and flopped down on to one of the sofas, his face in an unmistakable frown. They glanced out at the sky – the rain was still coming down in unbreakable sheets and the lightning flashed almost constantly. They then turned to each other, each reading the other's thoughts: Eldarion wanted to be outside, but his parents had refused. The Twins knew how Eldarion felt all too well – how many times had the same happened to them in their Minority? Not that that had stopped them going outside (many hiding places had been utilised during these times) or indeed creating their own... entertainment. They evidently had a lot still to teach Eldarion.

"How goes it, little one?"

Eldarion mumbled something incoherently; the Twins caught words like 'bored', 'rain', 'robes', and 'banquet'. Ah, of course – the upcoming festivities; evidently Eldarion and his mother were engaged in a battle of wills upon the subject of 'appropriate attire' – Elladan and Elrohir had their own memories of such events as well. On the other hand, the Twins' memories had been sweetened by what they had gotten up to in order to relieve any pent-up energy during the seemingly interminable banquets that they had been forced to attend owing to their status as Elrond's sons.

The fact that these 'occurrences' had eventually seen them sent to Lorien for a few years to be under the more watchful, experienced, and not to mention stricter eyes of their grandparents was neither here nor there. No, it was the memory of what they had actually _done_ which was the important detail.

With excited movements that wouldn't look out of place in nursery and which completely belied the Twins' apparent Majority, they each plopped down on either side of their nephew and placed an arm around the small shoulders.

"Come, nephew, the phrase 'attending a banquet' does not necessarily have to mean just dancing, being witty, and eating, you know. We know of many a trick that would make things far more palatable for those of the younger generation."

Eldarion brightened up immediately at this – he always enjoyed it when his uncles visited, for they always brought him some elaborate elven toy or found other ways of entertaining him and, this time, events seemed to be leaning towards the latter.

XXX

In the days that followed, the palace was rife with preparations – both official and unofficial – in order to be ready for the banquet at the end of the week.

Eldarion helped where he could and Arwen was amazed to see her son becoming so evidently excited about the banquet – he barely protested now if he was needed for another fitting session. Arwen was at a loss as to the reason for this sudden u-turn in attitude; that is, until she came upon her brothers and son huddled tightly together in a corner of the library, whispering excitedly. The book of comedic tales they produced when they spotted her did little to ally her suspicions (it was upside down at the time), but she didn't say anything, for she was simply grateful to have her son so occupied and looking forward to the banquet, even if it did carry the inevitable consequences. So long as no one was injured and she still had a habitable home at the end of the evening, Arwen didn't really care what her brothers were planning – she herself wasn't exactly on tenterhooks at the prospect of an entire evening with the staid men and women that seemed to make up the Gondorian Court.

Anyway, apart from this tiny aspect, everything was going smoothly for everyone involved.

Well, it _was_.

Barely a day before the banquet Elladan and Eldarion came across Elrohir secreted away in a store-room fiddling about with a load of candles.

"What you doing?" Eldarion asked curiously as he bent forward to examine the pile of candles behind his uncle. It seemed to be this pile that Elrohir was adding to, but Eldarion couldn't spot any difference between the candles in this pile and the ones still in front of the Elf.

"Ah, you shall see, little one; we don't want to spoil all our plans for the banquet."

"But why are you using those ones? Mamma said she's got some special candles for the banquet; she said they will be blue."

"Excuse me?" (Said ever so slightly disbelievingly, as though Elrohir was begging for what he just heard to be some kind of joke).

It wasn't.

"Those are just the candles Papa uses when he's working."

The following silence was broken by Elladan suddenly snorting in a most un-elven like way. He was immediately treated to a look of utter contempt from his mirror-image and just about managed to control himself in order to ask:

"Exactly how many have you done, brother?"

Elrohir pursed his lips and, in a deceptively level voice that nevertheless betrayed his own efforts of self-control, said,

"This was to be the final batch."

"So you've already done enough to fill the Great Hall?"

"...Yes."

It seemed Elladan could no longer control his already barely restrained laughter and he doubled-up, his whole body shaking.

"Labo vi Orodruin; garich i dhôl goll o Orch!" {Go jump in Mount Doom; you have the hollow head of an Orc!}

"Gen hannon." {I thank you.} Not surprisingly, this was said in a far calmer and, in fact, quite a mocking tone of voice.

"Do you realise how long this has taken me?"

"I think I could guess and you did refuse my offer of help."

"Well, it was my idea."

"I think you'll find that, originally, this was _my_ idea."

"So it was – how silly of me to forget. Well, seeing as you seem to know so much more about it than I do, _you_ can finish the job." And Elrohir sent the candles flying in his bid to reach the door before his brother had fully comprehended his words. Elladan would have followed, but he heard the scrape of the key in the lock (fear not, Elrohir _did_ have the presence of mind to grab on to his nephew's hand before he left the room). The next the eldest Elrondion knew was his brother's almost triumphant call through the keyhole, "Oh and, Elladan, do remember to mind the wax, burnt skin doesn't tend to go with many outfits."

XXX

By the next evening, Eldarion was in a state of near bubbling over with excitement. In fact, he was so keen to get to the banquet on time that he'd even stood still long enough for his hair to be tamed into a style that meant he _didn't_ look like he'd just been dragged through a hedge backwards. Eldarion knew most of what had been planned, but he still couldn't wait to see the results. He was also still intrigued as to what his uncles had done to the candles – they had refused point blank to elaborate.

Anyway, the banquet got under way with all the usual pomp and Eldarion toyed with his food as he awaited upon... err... events. But the fun was only just around the corner. Sure enough, the musicians soon filed in and everyone got up to stand around the edges of the dance-floor as the King and Queen took centre stage in order to begin the dancing.

The guests waited; the musicians as one took a deep breath and...

Nothing.

Well, there was something, but the noise – for noise it was – produced sounded nothing like what formal dance numbers of the Gondorian Court should sound like. Firstly, the brass instruments produced, well, nothing, but with a lot of effort, their players did manage produce sounds more commonly heard within groups of babies or drunken men and then the string instruments scraped and scratched their way to a shuddery and not-too-sure-what-to-do-next stop. (A/N: I have no idea what instruments would have been around in Middle Earth and these were the best gaia caecilia and I could come up with, so I'm just taking on a bit of artistic licence).

Silence.

Everyone looked at everyone else before turning their attention to the pair still standing in the middle of the hall, poised and paused in the act of preparing to dance. Elladan and Elrohir quickly made themselves unnoticeable within the crowd.

Fortunately, Aragorn and Arwen were far too used to strange happenings seeming to follow in their brothers' wake, so, with immense dignity, Aragorn signalled to the musicians to sort out their instruments and to a Court singer to take their place while they did so. The lady gracefully stepped up on to the raised platform and took a deep breath before...

All the candles went out.

There was a collective gasp of shock, which wasn't surprising really, given how Hall was now in pitch-blackness. Unless you counted the light from the moon and stars and I don't think many people were. Yet again, Aragorn's voice (now sounding rather resigned) rang out, ordering for fresh candles to be brought in. To give her her due, the lady upon the platform did actually manage to complete a few ballads and lays as the Hall was put to rights.

Eventually, however, dancing was allowed to commence and soon everyone had almost lost themselves in the gaiety of the event. That is, until a haughty lady with a turned-up nose took to the dance-floor during quite a complicated dance with many twists and turns. Eldarion didn't like the Lady Kelwenna at all – she seemed to spend all her time being unbelievably mean to all those she thought were 'below' her and then being unbelievingly sycophantic towards those she considered 'above' her, i.e. the King and the Queen... and Eldarion. In actual fact, hardly anyone at the Gondorian Court liked Lady Kelwenna, but her husband was one of Aragorn's best commanders and so they just about tolerated her for his sake.

Anyway, Lady Kelwenna began dancing, her long, heavy skirts swishing about her and it wasn't long before, well, the inevitable happened. Someone trod on her train and a loud ripping noise resonated throughout the Hall. Fortunately, she was wearing a petticoat, although it was rather fine and sheer. Not that Eldarion had much time to contemplate on this, as he found his eyes swiftly covered by his father's broad hands. All Eldarion heard was a frantic scurrying followed by the hub of many voices, including those of his parents,

"I didn't think velvet ripped so easily."

"It doesn't... unless it's been 'helped' along the way."

However, all noise was soon brought to another abrupt halt as all the candles in the Hall went out – again. It seems that Elrohir's hard work had paid off after all.

XXX

"Papa, can we have another banquet soon?"

Eldarion's parents looked at him fondly before laughing.

"I think we need to give everyone a little time to get over this one first!"

Eldarion sighed and slumped back against his pillows before he brightened and sat up, as though struck by a sudden thought.

"What does 'lah-boe vee Ore-oh-DROO-inn; gahr-eekh ee thole goal oh Orkh' mean?"

"_ELLADAN! ELROHIR!_"

TBC.

A/N: Sorry if the last bit confused you, but I thought a four-year-old may have a slightly harder time in pronouncing very much unknown Elvish (that was what was given as a pronunciation guide) – I was just emphasising that fact. Hey, look on the bright side; at least you can now insult people in Elvish!


	3. Food, Glorious Food!

DISCLAIMER: I've written this purely for my own and my readers' entertainment. I make no money whatsoever and I don't own anything (apart from the plot and my student debts, and you're more than welcome to take the latter if you so wish).

**CHAPTER 3 – FOOD, GLORIOUS FOOD!**

Eldarion bounced up and down on the balls of his feet as the elven horse with its two riders came into view. Now he was going to have even more fun, for Uncles Legolas and Gimli were coming to visit and Uncles Elladan and Elrohir were still in Gondor – when those three Elves got together, there was generally an explosion of 'events'. Sometimes quite literally, although the Twins hadn't gone quite so far as to explain exactly how they managed to give the kitchens in Rivendell a 'skylight' – Eldarion suspected it had something to do with the fact that his parents were also present.

That was another thing – for some reason, ever since the banquet, his parents hadn't been too keen for him to be left alone with Elladan and Elrohir. When first questioned about it, his father had muttered something about the risks involved when 'young boys are left in the care of two Elves with the combined maturity of a toddler'.

"Uncle Legolas! Uncle Legolas!"

The tall, blonde Elf stretched out his arms and braced himself to receive the human cannonball that was his best friend's son.

"Uncle Legolas, I can speak Elvish now!"

"Oh, really – what can you say, child?"

At this point, Aragorn came – rather hurriedly – up and said,

"Wouldn't you like you be shown to your rooms?" A blind man could have seen that this was some kind of distraction – Legolas was not blind; neither was Gimli – or Eldarion, come to that.

"I think I know where my rooms are by now, Estel. Besides, it's about time your son learnt true Elvish."

"Yes, let the lad speak, Aragorn, as I would rather like to extend my knowledge of Elvish as well."

With this encouragement, Eldarion launched right in, proudly exclaiming,

"Labo vi Orodruin; garich i dhôl goll o Orch!"

Legolas' eyebrows shot up into his hairline; he coughed slightly.

"Well, that certainly is a rather... interesting turn of phrase, little one, who taught you?"

Eldarion simply grinned and pointed over to the Twins, who were watching the scene unfold with undisguised glee. Legolas rolled his eyes and muttered,

"I should have guessed."

"But what does it mean?" asked Gimli.

"Well, mellon nin," Legolas paused – should he really translate? But then, the child probably knew anyway. "It means: 'go jump in Mount Doom; you have the hollow head of an Orc'."

"So _that's _what it means; I was wondering." And Eldarion jumped down from Legolas' arms, running off to play with some of his friends, completely oblivious to the stunned looks adorning every adult face – apart from Elladan and Elrohir.

And Gimli.

XXX

It was breakfast and everyone was laughing and chatting; everyone, that is, except Eldarion. He glared down at the bowl in front of him. It was porridge today and Eldarion _hated_ porridge, especially when it went cold. But how was he supposed to keep it warm when he was trying to help himself to all the good food before everyone else did?

Arwen eyed her son wearily as he toyed with his food. Porridge Day – never a relaxing way to start the morning. The same tantrums always followed, generally ending up with Eldarion stomping off for hours on end. Arwen had vaguely considered her husband's suggestion that maybe they stop having porridge quite so regularly, for it would at least mean waking up without that sinking feeling, but then Arwen remembered her mother at meal times. Celebrían would brook no argument – either you ate your food – _all_ your food – or you went hungry. No wonder her brothers were so good at wheedling snacks out of the kitchen staff.

Besides, Arwen liked porridge and was determined that she would eat it, even if that meant fighting a one-elleth battle to keep it on the breakfast menu. However, it seemed like she had an ally today in the form of Legolas, for he had already had a large serving and looked like he may help himself to some more.

"Aren't you going to eat your breakfast, Eldarion?"

"I've had my fruit and my milk."

"But what about your porridge?" The dark head was shaken in response, the lips pouting. "I always ate my porridge when I was growing up."

Just along the table, Elladan tutted under his breath,

"Of course you did."

"Besides, don't you want to grow up big and strong like your father?"

"But Papa never ate _his _porridge, he told me. And Grandpapa never made him."

The Twins exchanged a grin – they remembered all too clearly why Elrond had never forced his foster son to eat porridge after his first attempt. It was a long time before Glorfindel would eat in the same room as Estel again and Elrond decided rather quickly that perhaps Gilraen was better suited to feeding her son herself.

The table had gone quiet – Arwen was giving Aragorn the Hard Stare; when the Queen gave you a Hard Stare, you immediately knew that you were in trouble. Recognising the danger signs, Aragorn hurriedly left his seat,

"I... have a very important meeting to get to." He exited rather hurriedly.

Legolas watched his friend's departure with an amused eye before he too left his seat, ruffling Eldarion's hair as he did so.

"Come, mellon, shall we visit the gardens?" Rolling his eyes, Gimli also got up and followed the Elf. Everyone heard his grumbling about 'Wood Elves and nature'.

Arwen looked back to her son, the Prince's arms were crossed and he was looking very mutinous. Arwen sighed – she wasn't quite as strict as Celebrían, but she didn't want her son to survive on just a little fruit salad – he was an active little boy. However, she knew it would be almost impossible to Eldarion to eat very much more of his porridge, especially now Aragorn had put his foot in it. A compromise was evidently called for.

"Come, Eldarion, why don't we go to the kitchens? I'm sure the cook won't mind heating a little milk to put into your porridge and I'm sure I can even persuade her to add a little syrup as well." Eldarion looked up at her with his blue-grey eyes. "And you don't have to eat the whole bowlful." She was immediately rewarded with one of Eldarion's biggest grins; the little Prince jumped down and grabbed her hand, eager to be able to finish his breakfast, for he wanted to go and have fun with Uncle Legolas.

XXX

"Uncle Legolas, will you come help me?"

Gimli was amused to see Legolas start slightly; of course _he_ had seen the child creep up, but where was the fun in telling Legolas that? It was good to see that even Elves could be wrong-footed at times.

"Of course I will, little one; how may I be of service to you?"

"Will you lift me up so I can see into Papa's council chamber?" Rather startled at the strange request, Legolas nevertheless obliged and followed Eldarion to the great white building behind them.

He lifted Eldarion on to his shoulders; the child pulled the window open a little more and leant forward slightly so Legolas couldn't see precisely what he was doing. The next moment Eldarion indicated that he wanted to get down.

"Is that it?" queried the now very confused Elf.

"Yes, Papa's councillors are always very boring; when I'm King, I won't have councillors... Will you be my horse?" All this was said in a rush, leaving the poor Sindarin Prince almost swimming with the effort of trying to keep up.

XXX

When Aragorn found them, Legolas was still being the horse, whilst Gimli had somehow turned into a tree/enemy.

"Done already, mellon nin?" breathed the 'horse' as he was pulled to a standstill. Legolas made a mental note to redo his braids when he next got the chance.

"Not really; for some reason a load of insects found their way into the room." Aragorn eyed his son, who grinned back.

"Oh well, Papa, you can be my new horse – a great big, black war horse, like what Grandpapa rode during the Last Ally.. Ali..."

"Alliance?"

"Yeah... _CHAAAARGE!_"

XXX

It was midday and the sun was hot. Gimli was stretched out in the shade of one of the largest trees, puffing lazily on his pipe. He suddenly sat up when he heard a crunching sound, as though someone was moving through the undergrowth, but he couldn't see anyone. Shrugging his shoulders, he settled back down only to jump up when a small pebble came sailing through the air from behind, landing by his foot. Gimli stared at it, and then around. Nothing. Yet again Gimli settled, yet again he jumped up when a second pebble landed just shy of the first.

The third time this happened, the sound was accompanied by more movement in the undergrowth and Gimli charged into it, ready to have – preferably short and sharp – words with whomsoever was disturbing his rest. He found nothing and no-one, except for a small, white box, left in a clearing. The short-tempered Dwarf stomped forward and opened the box, only to jump backwards crying out in shock. Inside the box was a red, shelled creature with immense claws that jumped forward, clicking menacingly. Gimli yelled again – the note was impressively high-pitched, considering that it was being given out by a Dwarf – but that wasn't really surprising seeing as whatever it was appeared to be following him with those same jerky movements, all the while clicking it claws.

Gimli kept backing away, growling at the thing in an effort to scare it off, until he came up against his tree. Before he knew what he was doing, Gimli was up in the tree's branches. The creature, however, continued to jerk forwards. Grabbing the first thing that came to hand, Gimli threw it at the creature; the dwarven throwing-axe crushed it instantly. Sighing in contentment, Gimli looked down at the creature... and stopped dead. Instead of blood and flesh seeping out from the wound, Gimli could see that an elaborate mechanism of strings and wires had been set up inside the shell n order to make it move. It was a child's toy! A trick! And he – Gimli, son of Gloin – had been chased into... a tree... (A/N: I've borrowed this trick from gaia caecilia's story Etyanárë).

Having spent the last few years in the company of Wood Elves, Gimli had mastered – sort of – the art climbing trees. However, Gimli was a bit like a cat – he could get _up_ into the trees, he just couldn't get back down. Hence why he had finally persuaded Legolas to let him sleep on the forest floor in Ithilien or, failing that, build him a strong ladder. Not that these really helped his present predicament, especially when the Dwarf heard the distant rumble of thunder – so the boiling summer heat of recent days had finally decided to break.

Brilliant.

XXX

Hours later, a very wet, very cold, and _extremely_ grumpy Dwarf stomped out of Aragorn's office – no one tried to stop him. Aragorn only spoke again when he heard the distant slamming of Gimli's bedchamber door.

"So, it was a mechanised lobster shell that Lord Celeborn gave to his great-grandson on his last birthday? I wonder where he got it."

"Probably from the Grey Havens when he saw Gaernana off; Lord Círdan does have a penchant for practical jokes." Arwen sighed heavily. "Well, I suppose I'd better go and comfort Eldarion."

"You might also want to change the menu for tonight – I don't think Gimli would appreciate lobster."

XXX

Legolas was glad to get to bed that night, for even though he was elven, he didn't generally spend his whole day playing with an overly excited, hyperactive four-year-old. In fact, he was so tired, he didn't even stop to look at the note laid on his pillow – well, just in case, he decided, he would glance at it before snuffing the candle. So, Legolas slid under the covers and settled his feet... into something very cold and very, very lumpy. With a cry, Legolas jumped out of bed and pulled back the blankets. In just the area where someone of his height would place their feet, there was a mass of greying, congealed _porridge_. Legolas pursed his lips and flopped heavily down on to his bed; it was only then that he remembered the note. Snatching it up, he unfolded it, and read the following (eyes widening as he did so):

_Just a warning: Eldarion might have found something more interesting to do with his porridge and that 'something' may have involved your bed._

TBC.

A/N: Poor Legolas, eh? Will he or won't he get his revenge in the next chapter – you'll have to wait and see. Incidentally, I know I've been regular in my posting of this story, but you may have to wait slightly longer for chapter 4 – I've got ideas as to what will happen in Aragorn's household, but it just needs to be got down in a vague order, etc, etc (you know, Uni work and stuff :(), but I will get it to you ASAP.


	4. A Surprise for Eldarion

DISCLAIMER: I've written this purely for my own and my readers' entertainment. I make no money whatsoever and I don't own anything (apart from the plot and my student debts, and you're more than welcome to take the latter if you so wish).

A/N: Yay, here is the next installment! You had nothing to fear after all :) I just had an idea and ran with it until it produced:

**CHAPTER 4 – A SURPRISE FOR ELDARION**

Eldarion was sitting on the hearthrug in his family's private sitting room – a far more homely and comforting affair than the room used for 'important and official visitors'; no soft hearthrugs for one thing. So he didn't visit the latter much; not that he was allowed in there very often, for Aragorn, although he was just as bored by many of his councillors as his son was, had at least managed to school his expressions and actions into something less obvious than huge yawns and sighs and had, therefore, forbidden his son from entering if it was already occupied.

Anyway, Eldarion was sitting, his legs splayed, playing with his toy army, when his parents entered. Eldarion looked up and noticed that his mother was smiling happily, while his father was wearing an expression that seemed to imply that he was extremely pleased with himself.

"Eldarion, your mother and I have something very important to tell you," said Aragorn as he slipped his arm about Arwen's waist. The pair then stared at each other with that yucky, romantic look that always seemed to precede a kiss, but (much to Eldarion's relief) that didn't happen this time. Instead, his parents made their way over and sat on one of the sofas, motioning for Eldarion to join them.

When Eldarion was safely nestled beside his mother, for his father seemed uneager to let go her waist, Arwen smiled down at her son and spoke,

"Well, Eldarion, it appears that you will soon have a baby sister." Eldarion stared up at his mother, his small brow furrowed.

"I will? Where is she?"

"In here, my darling." And Arwen patted her flat stomach. Eldarion hesitantly put his hand out to where his mother's was.

"She isn't very big." Arwen smiled and hugged her small son.

"She has a bit of growing to do yet, but when she's ready, she will put in an appearance."

"How did she get in there?" Arwen and Aragorn looked at each other – the explanation would have to come eventually, but now was not the time.

"I think you're a bit young to know all the details, my son," Aragorn contributed finally. "But rest assured that your mother and I will still love you as much as ever and will always be there for you, OK?" Eldarion rubbed his nose thoughtfully.

"Hmmm – OK." And with that, he went back to his game. "Papa, will you be my enemy?"

With a grin, Aragorn knelt down in front of his son and began to arrange his troops, leaving his wife upon the sofa, hand still resting on her stomach.

_What a family!_, she thought.

XXX

The news of the Queen's pregnancy brought joy to everyone, even Legolas, for Legolas, you see, was not very happy at the moment, but that was only to be expected seeing as he was 'as vain as maidens on the lookout for handsome and preferably rich husbands' as Uncle Elladan had so sardonically put it. Eldarion was slightly nervous as Legolas took his seat opposite.

For his part, Legolas certainly _was _planning some kind of revenge – he just wasn't sure what yet. It had to be something that wouldn't hurt Eldarion because, well, of _course _he wouldn't hurt Eldarion – he loved the boy. There was also the little detail of two very proud and fiercely protective parents – one of which, now she was pregnant again, would almost certainly become even more maternal than she already was. Although he hadn't been around pregnant ellyth very much, Legolas knew enough to realise that he probably shouldn't annoy Arwen too much. Ellyth were nerve-wracking enough at the best of times; there was no knowing what may happen to him if... Legolas shivered, for he valued his ability to be able to sire his own offspring at some point in the future.

Legolas also wanted to include Elladan and Elrohir on his 'victims list'. Why? Well, how else did that note appear on his pillow? If Aragorn or Arwen, or anyone else for that matter, knew what Eldarion had done, they would have dealt with it straight away and _not _waited until they knew he would be tired out after running around with the child all day. Alright, the note had been a warning, but a less disreputable character would have made it _slightly _clearer that the recipient should read the note _before _getting into bed. Legolas also recognised the handwriting.

While Legolas was going over any number of possible scenarios in his head, Elladan and Elrohir were exchanging significant glances with each other – a meeting was evidently needed, for they had seen the gleam in Legolas' eyes and it reminded them of a look worn by certain Golden Lord after they had – rather ill-advisedly, it's true – smeared his hair with beeswax while he slept.

Accordingly, after breakfast, the Twins snuck off to their rooms.

"I'm concerned, brother," began Elladan, "For my own backside as well as Eldarion's. You know I'm not one for running away, but, well, you saw Legolas' face and it spoke of things that do not bode too well for us."

"What do you suggest?"

"Oh, I don't know; we can hardly go back to Imladris just yet and I refuse to give that blonde penneth any cause to call _me _a coward."

"Not Imladris, I agree... a camping trip perhaps?"

"A camping trip? Elrohir, have you _completely _lost your mind? You do realise that Legolas has the ability to hold a grudge for longer than Arwen did when she was in her thirties? He could jump out on us at any time."

"Yes, but think about it, brother: A week or so, on our own, camping in the wilds. Spending the whole day teaching Eldarion to fish or catch game; spending the evenings planning counter-offensives so that..."

While his brother had been talking, Elladan's face had changed from a frown to one of consideration and finally, it morphed into a wickedly delighted grin and he finished Elrohir's sentence,

"...we may be prepared for anything that Legolas may wish to visit upon us."

"Exactly."

Elladan thought a little more.

"Glorfindel would be proud of us, would he not? For I believe that that was one of his favourite and most oft repeated lessons – 'be prepared'."

"I do believe you are correct, brother mine."

The Twins looked at each other and grinned – plans already forming in their minds.

XXX

"_Please_, Papa!" Eldarion gave his father the 'puppy-eyes'.

Aragorn felt himself wilting despite his supposed iron-determination that Eldarion was _not _allowed to spend any significant amount of time alone with his uncles. A week was just asking for trouble.

"Go on, Estel – we won't let a _fly _touch him!"

"I seem to remember you saying something similar to Elrond when I was Eldarion's age."

"Yes, well... _that _was Elladan's fault..."

"Hey!"

"... and we told you not to..."

"You taught my son to swear in Elvish!"

"No, we didn't." Aragorn raised an eyebrow in a manner so reminiscent of Elrond that Elrohir almost quailed – almost. "I thought it was more of a brotherly insult, myself. Although, if you wanted, we could..."

"Elrohir!"

"What if _I_ went with them, Aragorn?" Everyone turned to see Gimli in the doorway. "I'll make sure the child is not overly influenced in any direction. Besides, I've been wanted to show him stone-carving."

"He's four."

"Got to start somewhere."

Aragorn was suddenly knocked back as his son gave him his especially favourite flying-bear-hug. If he hadn't before, Aragorn realised he'd lost the battle.

"Oh, alright then, but mind you..." Aragorn stopped when he realised he was talking to an empty room.

XXX

Legolas watched as the little party left the White City – he could guess what Elladan and Elrohir were up to, but this could actually work in his favour. He originally thought he'd only have a day or two for planning, but now he had a whole week...

XXX

Several nights later, a lone figure could be seen slinking through the halls of the palace. Not a sound did he make as he stealthily put the final touches of the plan into play.

Back in his bed, Legolas grinned at the rich canopy above him – tomorrow was going to be good.

TBC.

A/N: Oooo – what's going to happen, eh? Well, I'm going to be evil and let you all stew just a tiny bit... you'll find out next week... dun-dun-duuuuuuuuuuuuuun!


	5. Surprises All Around

DISCLAIMER: I've written this purely for my own and my readers' entertainment. I make no money whatsoever and I don't own anything (apart from the plot and my student debts, and you're more than welcome to take the latter if you so wish).

A/N: Here you go – hope it was worth the wait!

**CHAPTER 5 – SURPRISES ALL AROUND**

"Is everything ready, brother?" asked Elrohir as they set out on their journey back to Minas Tirith.

It was only just after breakfast and they didn't have that far to go, but Eldarion was desperate to get and tell his parents all about his very first camping/fishing/hunting trip. The Twins also wanted to... err... 'be prepared'.

"Yes, brother, I believe there is nothing else to be done." Elladan imitated his brother and spoke in Quenya.

It wasn't that they didn't want to include Eldarion or anything, but Gimli was in earshot and they were pretty certain he would say something to Legolas. They had been ultra-careful in not letting the Dwarf see anything, but Gimli had probably known them – or at least, their reputations – long enough to suspect something. His sense of loyalty also had a most inconvenient habit of favouring the underdog; not that Legolas was an underdog, but Gimli may not like the way they were targeting him. As if!

Pretty soon, Minas Tirith came into sight and the excitement of the youngest in the group increased tenfold. Gimli smiled as Eldarion began fidgeting in front of Elladan – the child could be really enchanting at times.

"Keep still, little one," laughed the elder Elrondion, "We'll be there soon and then the real fun will begin." Elladan had dropped his voice so only Eldarion could hear, for Eldarion _did_ know what had been planned, but had been sworn to absolute secrecy and it was beginning to do his head in.

Finally, however, they were in the lowest level of the White City, making their jaunty progress towards the King's House. Aragorn was out on the front steps to meet them, but Arwen was nowhere in sight – how strange. They all looked at Aragorn questioningly.

"Arwen was unfortunately involved in an 'incident' wherein a bucket filled with iced-water and black dye was placed over a doorway. She's just washing now." Everyone's eyes widened.

"Is she OK?" queried Elladan. He looked rather relieved when Aragorn confirmed that she was.

"That's well, then," said Gimli, "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll just go and dump my pack in my room." He plodded off; everyone else followed Aragorn.

They were making for the private sitting-room when a shriek rang out from down a corridor. Naturally, everyone took off after the sound. They soon came across a maid, who was soaked to the skin, a metal bucket rolling around at her feet. Not only that, her beige dress and the white linens in her arms were now a rather shocking shade of pink – as was the – porous – stone floor. It was quite a sight to see, actually.

Elladan and Elrohir covered their mouths as Aragorn sent the stunned maid on her way and called for another to mop the floor. They then retraced their steps. Along the way, Elrohir casually commented that a similar incident had taken place in Rivendell when Legolas was an elfling – Eldarion recognised the story as the one his mother had told him not all that long ago. He reached up and squeezed his uncle's hand, a gesture which Elrohir returned, along with a knowing wink.

Aragorn pushed open the door of the sitting-room and stopped dead when a bucket balanced above emptied its contents of treacle and feathers all over his head. As the treacle began to ooze down his neck, Aragorn took a deep breath.

"_LEGOLAS_!

Behind him, Elladan whispered to his brother,

"Makes a change."

The sound of running feet was soon heard pounding down the corridor.

"Ai, Aragorn! What has hap... by Elbereth!" Legolas skidded to a halt when he saw precisely what _had _happened. Aragorn eyed him suspiciously.

"Care to explain precisely why my household now seems to be filled with buckets balanced over doorways?" Legolas stared at him.

"What, you think _I _did that?" He gesticulated at the bucket.

"You have before and who else could it have been? Elladan and Elrohir were off camping with Eldarion; are you suggesting that _Arwen_ had a hand in this?"

"Well, _I_ certainly didn't; how could I when I was..." There was a significant pause. "...otherwise engaged?"

"Awww, young Legolas found himself a mate?" Elrohir cooed. Legolas glared at him – he knew what had happened.

"Just you wait and see, Elrohir."

Elrohir shrugged offhandedly and took Eldarion's hand.

"Come, little one, do you want to do some drawings of our trip to show Nana later?" He was excitedly pulled away, Elladan in tow.

Aragorn stormed off at this point and Legolas and Gimli followed the Twins up to their rooms. Almost expectantly, the Twins burst through the doors and... nothing. Legolas stared disbelievingly.

"What? But there was supposed... I stayed up..." He was merely greeted with a set of superior smirks.

"Ah, but we've been in this game slightly longer than you have, Legolas. Check mate, I think?"

Legolas glared at Elladan before turning on his heel and stalking away. The Twins grinned at each other – the day was turning out rather well.

A little while later, the Twins were surprised by Gimli hurrying in to tell them they were needed in the kitchens.

"The cooks want to know how you would like the game we brought back to be prepared."

Off went the Twins to the appointed room. They opened the door only to be immediately and thickly covered in some kind of gooey mud. It was brown-green in colour and stank of mildew and ponds. Stunned, drenched, and stinking, Elladan and Elrohir gaped at each other before turning at the sound of a light chuckle behind them. Legolas was standing there, a smug grin playing about his lips.

"What? But I didn't..." began Elladan.

"I know you didn't, Elladan, for _I_ placed those buckets there, not ten minutes ago." The two Peredhil continued their gaping-fish imitations. "I have a lot of friends in a lot of places... Come, Gimli, I believe a drink is called for!"

XXX

Aragorn and Arwen breathed a small sigh of relief as they watched the Twins gallop off into the distance. Although they loved their brothers dearly, they couldn't deny feeling slightly more relaxed when each visit ended, especially _thi_s one. To be fair, though, nothing else had happened since the camping trip – no one really wanted to argue with an irate King and Queen. Actually, when Aragorn and Arwen had been told the full story, they had found it hysterically funny, but where was the fun in telling everyone that?

XXX

Several months later, Eldarion stared down at the tiny, dark-haired bundle in his mother's arms. A pair of blue-grey eyes opened and stared back, unblinking. If he didn't know better, he would think that little Elissa was sizing him up.

"She's pretty like you, Mamma."

"Yes, she's born to be a real charmer, that one," said the midwife cheerily. "You're going to have to help your father protect her, my Prince!" This comment made Aragorn grin and puff-up his chest more proudly than ever – if that was at all possible. He put an arm around his son's small shoulders.

"Do you think you can do that, Eldarion? Do think you will be able to protect your sister and teach her as an older brother should?" Eldarion tore his eyes away from his sister and looked up at his father.

"Oh yes, Papa; I'll be the bestest big brother there ever was!" He looked back at Elissa.

_Yes_, he thought as pictures of his most recent antics floated in his mind, _there are definitely one or two things I _can_ teach her_.

THE END.

A/N: Well, well, well - the end at last! Once again, I'd like to thank gaia caecilia for all her help and ideas. I'd also like to thank all my readers, whether you reviewed or not, for keeping with me these past few weeks. I hope you enjoyed the ride as much as I did :D x


	6. An Explanation

**AN EXPLANATION**

Dear all,

It's come to my attention that chapter 5 was a bit confusing for some. Looking back on it, I can see what you mean, but obviously I didn't consider that at the time, as I could see in my head what all the ins and outs of the plotline were. So, in order to clear my imaginings of mud, I've written a short explanation:

Basically, the Twins take Eldarion camping, but Legolas has Gimli go with them in order to find out what the Twins are planning. Just before they go home, Elladan sneaks back and plants all the buckets and after spying on Legolas, dismantles the trap in his and Elrohir's room (I imagined it to be the classic rope trap, where you put a foot wrong and are immediately imprisoned in a net or something). Upon return, Gimli goes off to tell Legolas what the Twins were planning, so Legolas knows all about the buckets and the dismantling of his own trap, but obviously pretends not to. He then plants the two buckets at the end and gets Gimli to lure the Twins downstairs. So, despite the Twins' prank working to an extent, Legolas gets the last laugh.

There, I hope that suffices and has made my rather jumbled imaginings slightly _less_ jumbled.

Rumrum x


End file.
